Saving Jack Bristow
by CatalynMJ88
Summary: It wasn't the first time Irina had been doubled...
1. From the Shadows of the Hills

She only came to observe. The followers believed she was in Hong Kong- this close to the endgame, they'd be suspicious of her showing up and claiming changed plans. She had yet to clear her name to Jack and Sydney, and while she heard that the impostor had been surprisingly humane to them in Vancouver, she doubted they'd have much patience for her explanations. To reveal herself to either party at this stage was extremely risky.

She approached on horseback. The chamber was in a desolate valley surrounded by tall, shadowy hills. Perfect for enemy spies or surprise attacks. There was a time when Irina would have claimed that this odd choice of location only showed Rambaldi's confidence. Now she realized that fanatical beliefs could stretch very far before they broke.

She saw Sloane and Sark arrive and enter the chamber. Then came the dynamite blasts. Sark reemerged, undoubtedly displeased at the dust and grime. Soon afterwards, Sydney, Jack and Vaughn ambushed the followers from another hill. The lower henchmen fell. Sydney entered the chamber while Jack and Vaughn ended up in a standoff with Sark and the last of his men.

Sark and the followers took Jack and Vaughn down into the chamber. Irina watched the empty camp and held her breath. It might benefit her to keep Sloane alive. The impostor would sooner die than reveal herself, and Irina's research indicated Sloane might be the only other person alive who knew the truth. On the other hand, if Irina was wrong about Rambaldi, if he held the key after all… then Sloane was about to become more dangerous than he had ever been.

She heard gunshots. First a quick three snaps. Then a second gun fired seven shots, slower, heavier, methodical.

The followers scattered into the hills. There was no sight of Sloane. Sydney and Vaughn slowly climbed out of the cave. Jack was between them, staggering, his head bobbing weakly, his arms slung over their shoulders. They laid him down and opened his shirt. Even from a distance, Irina immediately saw the crimson spread.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

She watched, frozen in horror, as Vaughn called for support. Sydney tended Jack.

Like a complicated reflex, Irina gathered her things and mounted her horse again without thinking. Her focus was only on Jack and Sydney in the valley below. She heard her own heart pounding her ears. Each moment passed like an hour. Vaughn spoke to Jack, then got up and brought their Jeep around. Sydney's gaze darted back and forth between her fiance and her father. "Wait, Vaughn, wait!" Irina heard her cry. Sydney looked to Jack again. She grew still. Were they saying their goodbyes?

Then, sobbing, Sydney tore herself away. She climbed in the vehicle and Vaughn drove off. There was only one mission important enough for Sydney to leave Jack at a time like this. Irina shuddered. She ought to stay in the shadows until her daughter was gone.

Jack stood up to watch them go. _You fool!_ Irina wanted to scream. Wasting his remaining energy (and blood!) just to put their daughter's mind at ease. But would Irina expect anything else of him? She kicked her horse's flanks. Let Sydney see her for all she cared; Jack's bravado forced her to act _now._

By the time Irina's horse crested the hill, Jack had collapsed. As she descended into the valley, she kept an eye on the Jeep; Vaughn continued driving away. She reached Jack, jumped from her still-moving horse, knelt over him and assessed the damage.

Jack lay still with his eyes closed. His face was pale; his lips were blue. Each breath was wrestled through a pained, papery wheezing. A collapsed lung, most likely. He had two gunshot wounds on the right side of his chest, one on the left just beneath the collarbone. Sloane had hit as close as he could without bringing Jack a quick death. Was this sadism… or strategy?

"Hold still," Irina ordered. She pressed the gauze Sydney had left against Jack's wounds. "How far out are your med techs?"

"Half hour," he murmured. Then his eyes flew open. "Ir… Irina…?"

"Jack, listen to me. You've lost a lot of blood. You can make it." Irina gritted her teeth. "But you have to _hold still._ "

"Sloane," he whispered.

"Sydney shot him, didn't she?"

Of course she did. If Sloane shot Jack three times, then the seven shots after were Sydney's retaliation. Destroy Sydney Bristow's family and she'd destroy you. Irina might have thought, _that's my girl,_ except Sydney was even better than that.

"She did," Jack nodded. "But…"

His eyes moved towards the entrance to the chamber. Irina understood. They were dealing with Rambaldi here. It was best to take precautions. Irina touched the gun in her holster. If Sloane were still alive by natural means, perhaps he could be negotiated with. But if Rambaldi's vision had come true, Irina would have to destroy him. Like the giant roaches in the tenements where she grew up: such ruthless abominations cannot be allowed a chance at survival. They must be squashed.

"They left behind some dynamite," she stated. She scanned the hills for signs of the few surviving followers; there were none. "But first you need new dressings."

She pulled fresh gauze from her pack. She pried the old dressings loose from the thick, dark blood, grateful that it was coagulating, even more grateful that it wasn't gushing. Jack bit his lip not to flinch. Typical. She glanced towards the dynamite, then the chamber entrance.

"Jack…"

He nodded briskly. "Go."

She nodded back, and guided his hands to the gauzes. "Keep pressure on these," she instructed.

She moved to get up, but at first she couldn't bring herself to let go of his hands. She thought of the pictures she'd seen of Isabelle, the secondhand reports that Jack had stayed with the baby while Sydney was recently on deep cover. She thought of all the mistakes they both made as parents, and she knew that Jack was determined to remedy them this time around.

"If you die, I will kill you," she warned him as she stood.

He replied with the faintest flicker of a smirk.


	2. You Made It

"That was Dixon. Your father's alive. They've taken him to Yokosuka Naval Hospital."

Vaughn stared at the walkie like he couldn't believe what he just heard. Sydney stared at Vaughn in the same way. Vaughn called the cockpit and asked their jet pilot to change course. They turned from eastward to northward in the clear black night over the East China Sea. Vaughn sat down again, this time beside Sydney rather than across from her.

"How…?" she faltered. "How is he?"

"Critical."

"Stable?"

"Not sure. Dixon said he lost a lot of blood."

"I'm donating as soon as we get there," said Sydney. Jack was O-negative- the universal donor, but the most selective recipient. Lucky for him, so was his daughter.

"Of course." Vaughn sighed and rubbed his stubble. "Syd… You know, I thought, when we left him there…"

"I know." She swallowed hard. "I thought so too."

They'd just averted missiles aimed at London and Washington. Even in their line of work, this wasn't 'just another day at the office.' They had saved the world- for a while at least. And yet, up until now, Sydney had felt ripped apart. She thought she'd killed both her parents today. True, Mom made her own choice. And Dad convinced her to leave him, for the greater good. But that hadn't stopped the guilt from rushing in on her.

"My dad's alive, my dad's alive," she whispered, willing it to sink in. She didn't know how to feel. Mom was still dead- and all because she placed ambition over her alleged love for Sydney. APO was destroyed, Tom was dead, Sark was in the wind. But Sloane was finally defeated, the attacks were called off… and Dad was alive.

How had he survived? Sydney knew it was a long shot when she told Dad to sit tight and wait for the medical team. When Dad told her that he could hold out on his own, they both knew it was hopeless. If there was no one there to keep pressure on his wounds when his own grip weakened, to give him CPR if needed, then even a thirty-minute wait was impossible… Wasn't it?

"We've gotten pretty good at impossible." Vaughn had reminded Sydney just this morning- though it seemed like a lifetime ago.

She was struck by a memory of another time they defied the impossible. After she returned from the Julia Thorne years, she was detained and tortured by none other than the US government. Her dad led a small rogue team that broke several dozen federal laws to free her. In the escape chopper, Sydney felt shaken and surreal- until Dad pulled her against him and told her, tired but triumphant: "You made it, Sydney. You made it."

Now she nestled against Vaughn's shoulder, let the joy break the surface and the tears fall. "You made it, Dad," she whispered. "You made it."


End file.
